In Which Tintin Alerts the Captain to an Unknown Talent
by DoubleDecks
Summary: Tintin/Haddock SLASH - Tintin flatters a villain in disguise to get the information he needs; unbeknownst to him it is the Captain who is most affected. Warnings: implied underage, minor slurs


**IN WHICH TINTIN ALERTS THE CAPTAIN TO AN UNKNOWN TALENT**

* * *

"Who is that...charming young man?"

He heard these words spoken no more than ten feet away from him and ceased shucking oysters at the buffet, quickly placing the small plate of their contents on the far side of the table by a bowl of fruit and glancing at the ornamented clock above the grand staircase. He hadn't even been present for fifteen minutes and already the target was descending. Pitiful.

"Who sent him? Oh, right! That must be the lad that won the Bronze Cross, I am such a fool! If you gentlemen don't mind I'm going to go have a word, excuse me."

Before long a slender finger was feebly tapping him on the shoulder as if touching a hot stove. He took a deep breath and spun around, decorations swaying as he gasped,

"Monsieur Salpor!"

"At your service," Salpor smirked roguishly from behind his black pencil moustache and closed the distance between them, snatching up the former's hand and firmly shaking it close to his chest. "Congratulations on getting the Cross, my son! Grand work! Allow me to welcome you to my palace."

"The pleasure's all mine, minister."

_Smile as if you owe him your life. He isn't entirely all that bad looking, for what he is. Might give King Muskar or even Clark Gable a run for their money, if he were not completely and utterly pathetic._

"Might I offer you something to drink?"

The young man indecisively regarded the gigantic white columns that separated the waltzing floor from the bar. "Oh...well...um, I'm afraid, Monsieur Salpor, sir-"

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid...that if I were to accept your kind offer I'd be breaking the law right before one of Borduria's most respected dignitaries, and that'd do me no good seeing as I got here by receiving an award for virtuous duties."

"Oh, nonsense! Pray, the rules are much, much different when you're working for the state," Salpor replied, placing his arm around the boy's shoulders and leisurely guiding him over to the champagne fountain. "I trust that if you're old enough to receive an award of this caliber you could do with a little refreshment, at least for tonight! Just don't tell the boys back at the troop that Old Salpor liquored you up, yes?"The young man relaxed and grinned.

"Well, alright. If you insist. But I mustn't have too much! I can get rather...silly at times."

"So you _have_ dabbled in drink after all! And you're not even...how old _are_ you, if you don't mind my asking?"

_Showtime. _

"Sixteen, Monsieur-"

Champagne splashed onto the minister's uniform jacket but he did not notice in the least, gazing at the lad with vested interest.

"-and as pertaining to your supposition, as a scout I can neither confirm nor deny that." The boy eagerly held two fingers up even as he accepted the glass of bubbly being handed to him.

"Oh, you naughty thing."

Don't falter. Encourage that.

"I suppose you're just going to have to lock me away for all of my previous infractions, then."

Monsieur Salpor looked fairly surprised by this comment but the flicker of suspicion that crossed his features was quickly extinguished under a metric ton of suppressed lust when the young man bit his lip ever so slightly.

_Other guests have used this fountain. Nothing up his sleeve. No discoloration, no odd odor. _

The boy then tipped the glass into his mouth and drank his champagne in one sitting and he could have sworn he heard Salpor whimpering as he did so.

"Oh, well, perhaps we might discuss these _infractions_," the minister remarked. "Shall we go for a walk? I have a curious little collection of photos from my trip to Khmed that I rarely show my guests. Not that there is anything terribly peculiar about them," he added, hastily, "but they are quite rare and exciting sights indeed."

_Photos. Second floor._ "After you, Monsieur."

Salpor's left hand was on his back again with seemingly innocent insistence as his right was supplying him another glass of champagne from the fountain and then procuring his own; the lad nursed his bit by bit as they made their way up the grand staircase. The minister nodded to the armed men that stood posted at the entryway to a corridor, one of which rolled his eyes at the guard opposite when Salpor looked away.

"This," the minister said as the guards closed the heavy doors behind the two of them with a thunderous bang, "is my exhibition hall. I like to keep mementos from my most recent trips in here so that the memories remain fresh - do you travel often?"

"This is my first time away from home, Monsieur."

"I do hope my country has been...hospitable?" The minister's palm slowly inched down the boy's jacket onto the small of his back.

_Not particularly._

"Very," the young man said, a sultry note drawing an intentful gaze from the other. "Tell me, what is this?"

"That is the great Al Wadi river, the largest natural body of water in all the middle east. You can see the pyramids from the lookout peak where we were stationed."

_That is a man-made dam in Bagghar. Those are just mountains._

"I see," the lad mused. "Quite impressive! And this fellow?"

Salpor's fingers danced down his side, came to rest on his hip as his head drew close to hover beside the younger boy's as they looked at the picture.

"Ah, that man is a very dangerous criminal. He is one of the major players in a string of drug-related crimes in the area. After learning who I was he allowed me to take this photo of him."

_That is a shopkeeper._

"It seems as though you've the kind of upstanding personality whenever you come around that sets everyone in right order, Monsieur. Even dangerous criminals."

"I would be inclined to disagree but I've been told I should learn to better take compliments," Salpor blathered, amused. He set his glass on a podium next to a cheap piece of mass-produced pottery. "Speaking of right order I don't believe we've discussed your infractions. All of them stolen sips of wine at the dinner table or a gander at a fine lady and nothing more serious, I hope."

"Well, I," the lad swiped a finger around the rim of his own empty glass.

_This isn't even real crystal. Go figure._

The minister took the lad's glass from him and put it on the podium, doing a double take when he discovered his own missing. "What the-"

"I have been such a very good boy, up to this point," the young man blurted, batting his eyelashes.

"Up to this point?" Salpor returned to looking at him, a little frown crossing his face. His other hand settled on the boy's waist, his thumbs rubbed circles into the boy's sides."Whatever went wrong?"

"You," the boy mewled. "Forgive me, but you make me..."

Salpor slowly gathered him in both arms, leaning in, but the young man abruptly turned away and dislodged himself. The minister tripped over his own feet and barely avoided falling over completely.

"You just make me feel so...so..."

"Yes?" Salpor implored, eyes becoming larger as they watched the boy scout pace around around the corridor.

"I've never felt this way," the young man said, his voice low. "Oh, please...I...I don't know what to do about this odd feeling! Help me Monsieur Salpor, I think I might be a...a...deviant."

The minister was at his side in an instant. "Oh, you beautiful child," he sighed, tentatively wrapping his hands around the lad's waist once more. "It is perfectly natural to feel this way. Come, let us retire to my room."

"I've never done this before," the redhead admitted. "Promise you'll be gentle?"

He opened the door behind him and led the older man into the bedroom - Salpor was so clouded with desire that he failed to question why it was exactly that his guest knew where the bedroom was located but nonetheless proceeded to follow him around the room like a lost puppy as he searched the panelling across the mould, then the bookshelf, then eventually dove onto the bed and felt along the headboard brusquely, pressing his ear to it and knocking.

"No," he uttered, slipping off the bed. He stood for a moment with his brow furled in concentration and his hands on his hips as he surveyed the rest of the room.

Monsieur Salpor had by this point crowded himself behind the lad and was reaching for his rear with trembling fingers, which the boy promptly grasped in a joint lock and broke.

"Ahhhhhhhh! Fuck! Fuck! My hand!" the minister withered to the floor and begun sobbing uncontrollably.

"Crumbs, now _where_ is it."

"You scum! You rotten son of a spy _bitch_! You fucking tease!"

Tease. Now that was one he hadn't heard before.

"Let's play a game called 'quiet as a mouse'," the ginger said calmly, licking his palm and smoothing his fringe back up into a point, "...starting...now." Beyond the bedroom door he heard the distinct sounds of shouting and ceramics smashing against a wall.

"I'm going to have you executed for this, cunt! Fucking executed! But not before I-"

Tintin pulled a pistol from the back of his shorts and cocked it, casually firing a round into the official's leg.

A strangled cry emerged from the minister and he fell back to the floor from where he had managed to half-stand, gripping his calf with his good hand and shaking as a stain burgeoned into the blue carpet around him and stained it purple.

"You're going to be fine, stop being so sore," Tintin muttered, pulling books from the shelf one by one and tossing them carelessly in every direction. "You've got quite a filthy mouth on you; maybe this will teach you a lesson about letting fruit ripen before you pick it, hmm? Would it add insult to injury if I told you I haven't worn this uniform in nearly a decade?"

He turned to look at Salpor. The man was unconscious.

Tintin sighed as his eyes rested on what he was looking for. "Of course," he grumbled, collecting the folder of sensitive material off of the endtable from where it was obscured under a rather questionable-looking publication. "If it were a snake it would have bitten me."

Just then the bedroom door burst open and a red-faced, sweaty Captain stumbled in.

"I got here as fast as I could!" he shouted, gripping the M-16 slung around him with white knuckles.


End file.
